The Last Polar Bear

Chapter 9

Lys – lights

For what seemed like many lengths we did not speak. When Tórbjörn spoke to me his words were sharp and unkind, making me feel stupid. Anything I said and did met with his disapproval. Tórbjörn and I no longer played with each other. Instead, we used Nanna as a barrier between us, each vying for her attention and affection. If she knew of the divide she did not show it. The longer we went without flesh, the less interested she became in entertaining us.

Not long before the end of the third face of Månen, we stopped to rest. Nanna and my brother remained sleeping when I woke and I tired of waiting for them. A clear sky hung overhead and the glow from Månen's stare shone across the plain. The air breathed with an unnerving quiet that I had not sensed before and I decided to explore on my own. As I padded along, I looked up to the thick blackness above. The great splash of lights twinkled down on me. I stopped in my tracks and tried to count them, but each time I fixed my sight on one it seemed to fade, shrinking from my gaze as though not wanting to acknowledge my presence. There were so many. Only one light remained proud, alone to the north – Öben, the protector, watching over us for all eternity: the Great Björn guiding us on our trails.

I remembered the story Nanna had told me. When we complete our journey on the tundâr, and our time has come, only the spirits of true björn will make the final trail to join him in the sky. I sat and wondered if I would ever make that journey and then my thoughts slipped to Nanna and my brother – I would never be as noble as them. Overcome with a deep sense of self-pity I realised Tórbjörn was right. I was weak, stupid and just made things worse for both of them. He knew my failings and was to blame for the loss of the kill. Surely Nanna knew too but had wanted to stop Tórbjörn from hurting me further. I had made matters worse, although too scared to admit the truth. Perhaps they were better off without me.

I felt my heart bulge and the pain rise to stick in my throat. Again, my mind pawed at me, making me unsettled. I tried to swipe the thought away but it was useless – if they were better off without me, then should I be without them? Then He spoke.

At first, the light around Öben seemed to shimmer and distort in colour – light that was once white like the aqiluk shifted to become yellow, then red, then swathes of green. Surely my mind tricked my sight. I blinked, as all at once the light burst out, flooding the heavens around me. Like a tremendous wave, the green brimmed to a crest and threatened to crash onto the ice. I shrank, expecting to be washed away by its glare, but it remained, hanging mysteriously in the air, breaking against the invisible shores of the night sky, a beautiful collision of rhythm and light. I sat gripped by the fearsome power, suddenly feeling insignificant and longing to have even a tiny part of His strength. I could feel all the anger and hurt swell up inside me, bursting from my mouth in a desperate plea: 'Öben, hear my small voice and help me.' My call grew in my ears, shattering the silence as it echoed across the frozen landscape. The wonder had been broken. His voice ceased.

A sudden thought harmed me. Perhaps I should not have begged. Perhaps He was angry, displeased a björn as weak as myself should even dare to address Him. I looked down, ashamed of what I had done. The tundâr became dark again as before and I did not know what to do apart from return to my family. I decided I would not speak of it. I feared I had somehow brought more shame upon them.

When I returned, Nanna waited for me. 'Where have you been?' she scolded. 'You should not wander without my knowing where you are.' I did not reply and slumped down with my back to her, not wishing to meet her eye. 'Do not turn away from me when I address you. Answer me!' she growled.

Tórbjörn woke, hearing her anger. 'What's going on?' he asked.

'Look at me!' she commanded. I turned and looked up at her angered face and managed to mumble an apology. She studied me for a moment and softened. 'You are still too small to go too far. I need to know you are safe.'

'You were so tired, I did not want to wake you.'

'All right,' she acknowledged, 'but let me know in the future. I was worried for you.'

Tórbjörn's furious stare buried itself into the side of my head. I pretended not to notice.

An early skydweller called in the distance and broke the silence that had returned between us.

'Did you see the lights?' Nanna said eventually, trying to sound more positive. 'I was sleeping when I thought I heard you call to me. I woke and saw them briefly.'

'Lights? What lights?' asked Tórbjörn, confused.

'The sacred voice of Öben. Sometimes His lights flash across the sky. They are an omen.'

'What is an omen?' I asked.

'It is a sign, telling us something will happen.'

'Is that good?' my brother asked.

'Yes, it can be. It might be a good Spring for hunting. Although...' Her voice trailed off.

'What?' he prompted.

'It depends on each björn. Whatever question they hold in their heart when they see the lights will be answered when they hear His voice once more.' She thought for a moment. 'Come. We must move on.'

As she led away, Tórbjörn barged past me knocking me to the ground. 'Can't you see how tired she is? And you make it worse by causing her to worry! Stay close or I'll drag you back myself.'

His words hurt, but Nanna's were like claws raking my stomach. I wanted to apologise to Him and explain myself but feared I would just make matters worse. It could not be undone. All I could do was hope that I would see the lights again, soon.